


reasonable young women

by dejame



Category: Pride and Prejudice & Related Fandoms, Pride and Prejudice (1995), Pride and Prejudice (2005), Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Adopted Children, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27615197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dejame/pseuds/dejame
Summary: Eliza Bennet could not go outside. She could not visit Charlotte. She could not attend school. All the could do, it seemed, was lie in bed, refreshing her phone, waiting, waiting, and waiting.It buzzed.@williedis now following you!She said, to no one in particular, "He better fucking be." And then she blocked him.(or: Another Modern P&P AU! this one's making fun of americans during covid, though, and not regency england)
Relationships: Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	reasonable young women

Everyday it seemed Eliza Bennet came up with a new reason not to get married. Her latest one was more morbid: _once they die_ , she thought, _what the hell am I going to do with all of their stuff? A_ whole life of knowledge, a whole world of organisms and organs, a microcosmic apocalypse. What the hell are you going to do with all of that person’s stuff?

According to Eliza’s mother, you sent it wherever you sent the body.

Mrs. Bennet explained to her girls that he wanted to be buried where he grew up, which didn’t make much sense to any of them even though Lydia was the only one brave (stupid?) enough to say it aloud in front of their fragile mother. After that, once Mrs. Bennet had stopped sobbing and they’d all crowded around the new grave, Eliza looked around and realized her father had purchased a family lot.

THE BENNETS, it said.

She stared at the place her body would lay, where her bones would be for all eternity or until the sea rose back up and washed her away. The fresh, clean earth was alive and well, green and covered in dew. A chill ran up her spine.

Mr. Bennet’s grave was a long, polished marble stone laid flat in the ground. During a prayer, Katherine sneakily stuck out her foot and tapped on it twice, making two succinct beats.

“Stop it!” Jane hissed, and she grabbed her arm. “Why would you do that?”

Kat shrugged. “I wanted to see what my shoes would sound like on it.” Elizabeth thought, _Kat’s a fucking psychopath_. “Don’t look at me like that.” It took a second for Eliza to realize her sister was talking to her.

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” she said.

“I just wanted to hear the sound,” Kat insisted.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re looking at me like I’m crazy.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Eliza,” Jane said, soft.

“What?” Their family began opening their eyes, one by one. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Stop _looking_ at me,” Kat said. Her voice took on an annoying, desperate, begging sound, and Eliza knew she was only making her tone that way to make her look like a bitch, which was upsetting because then Eliza actually did start feeling like a bitch.

“I’m literally not doing anything. If you want to be literally insane and dance on our father’s grave the day of his funeral, I’ll just turn a blind eye.” Beside her, Eliza felt Mary tense. “Don’t,” she started, but Mary took a deep breath and began.

“When you use ‘blind’ like that,” she said. Elizabeth squeezed her eyes closed and clenched her hands into fists.

“I know.”

“No, I don’t think you _do_ know because otherwise you wouldn’t keep doing it.”

“Don’t say that I ‘keep doing it’ because I don’t. It literally just slips out sometimes. It’s a popular expression.”

“Just because something’s popular doesn’t mean that it’s right, though, does it?” Mary blushed, but whether from anger or embarrassment, Eliza couldn’t tell. “What if I said horrible things just because they were popular? What if I said the n-word?”

Lydia said, “Whoa!”

“That is _not_ the same thing,” said Eliza.

Jane placed a hand on both of her sisters’ arms. “OK, stop. You’ve both said things now you know just makes the other upset.”

“Mary’s not _blind_ ,” Eliza said, pointing. “It’s not the same thing.” All the sisters were talking now, one over the other, while their mother sobbed. Nearby, a young couple walking along the path shook their heads at their rising volume.

It was enough to make Mrs. Bennet sob, “Please.” And then again, “ _Please._ ”

The sisters quieted.

In the lull, heard as the couple walked further away: “Put on your fucking masks!” The Bennet women turned as one, watching the couple hussle out the cemetery.

Lydia barked, “Don’t fucking talk to my mom like that, bitch!” And then the sisters started up all over again, their shrill voices laying their father’s soul down to eternal rest.

* * *

At night, Jane and Eliza waited outside their mother’s door, listening in as she complained into the phone: “The girls can’t stop arguing. He’s not here to settle them down. I can’t do it on my own. Jane tries…” At this, Eliza grabbed her sister's hand and squeezed, thankful and sorry. Jane gently held the back of her neck and placed their foreheads together. She placed a kiss on her younger sister’s nose. Their mother murmured, “Are you sure? OK. That… that might work, yes.”

* * *

Auntie Catherine suggested the girls spend a day at the beach and, to assist their mother along in the new environment, promised she and hers would come along as well. When Mrs. Bennet informed her children at breakfast, Eliza asked, “But not George, right?”

“No, just Auntie Catherine and her Collins.”

Lydia leaned forward, always eager for gossip. “What’s wrong with Cousin George?”

Mary said, “What _isn’t_ wrong with Cousin George?” And all the family, save Eliza, laughed. Mary tried to meet her eye to no avail. _Yes_ , Eliza thought, _We’re still fighting._

* * *

They parked at Auntie’s beach house and had to walk a ways to the actual water, passing car after car with tickets taking up their windshields. The cement was burning hot and heat bounced off the ground before them in waves. Over the phone, Auntie had assured them the beach was the best part of South Carolina. No one had asked, but all the Bennet sisters agreed “best” and “South Carolina” did not belong together in the same sentence.

They'd been staying at the rental home in Wide Awake, a small town an hour between the beach and the city, for two weeks then and had yet to find anything worth investigating. It was immediately apparent why there were lower COVID cases in the area: there was truly nowhere to go. No theatre for Kat, nor music hall for Lydia, not even a library for Mary. No bowling alley or dance spot or youth center. They hadn't found so much as a baseball diamond or open field. The only places Wide Awake had were two Wal-Marts and a Waffle House, and the sisters had long ago ran out of reasons to avoid both, hence their aunt’s insistence they leave the house.

The girls walked along the beach in a single-file line that became more spacious as Mrs. Bennet and Jane spotted Auntie and Collins. Eliza dragged her feet at the back, watching her sisters move further and further away. As Collins ran down the beach to eagerly greet each of the girls, Eliza turned to look at the sea. Water lapped at her feet, pushing foam toward her toes. Sand stuck itself between her thighs. At one point, Collins yelped and Eliza jumped a foot into the air.

“What?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing. Nevermind. God,” she said, “you just nearly stepped on a jellyfish.”

“I did _what_?” Eliza looked back behind her. She wasn’t aware that could happen outside of comedy sitcoms. As she searched the ground, the line moved further up the beach, leaving her all alone.

“Can you help us?” someone asked. Eliza looked up.

A man with a glob of sunscreen on his nose.

A woman holding a baby.

The woman asked again, “Can you help us?” Eliza peered down the beach where her sisters trailed along to Auntie’s umbrella. She watched the girls open a cooler and pull out baggies of frozen fruit.

The man said, “We were just about to leave when we found her.”

“Sorry?” Eliza asked.

“The baby,” he said, gesturing. In the woman’s arms, the baby blinked her large brown eyes. “We were leaving and we saw her by the water all alone.” He asked, “Is she yours?”

Eliza huffed. “No, she’s not _mine_ ,” she ground out. She wouldn’t realize until later he’d probably only asked her because she was black. There were few people of color on the beach that day, and most of them were in her family.

From up the beach, Eliza spotted Mary glance around, realize she was missing, and wander back for her, curious. When Mary joined Eliza’s side, the man and woman stepped back to turn their triangle into a square but otherwise didn’t acknowledge her. Their eyes didn’t leave Eliza’s eyes. Their faces didn’t turn from her face.

He asked, “Could you take her?”

The lady asked, “Yeah, could you take her?” And she held out her arms, ready to hand the infant over.

Elizabeth gasped. “No, I’m not _taking a baby_.” She turned to Mary for some sort of assistance, but her sister said nothing. Eliza recognized the blankness of her stare. Sometimes she caught Mary doing nothing for hours at a time. She’d be sitting on the chaise or staring out the window when Eliza left to run errands and whenever she came back, Mary would still be there in the same position. Sometimes her face would be bright red, like she’d just gotten into a fight or like she hadn’t breathed. She looked dead. Or, no. Not dead, really, just not-alive, like something that lacked the capacity to live. A porcelain doll in a glass cabinet. Whenever she’d asked what she was doing, Mary would respond, _I’m just thinking_. Mary had that deeply contemplative look now, as if she was observing a particularly difficult math equation.

So Eliza realized she’d have to solve this herself, then. Maybe the couple had lost their phones. Maybe their battery was dead. She asked, “Do you want me to call the police for you?” Suddenly, the woman jerked the baby back, a hand wincing away from a hot stove.

“No, this is my baby,” she said, quick. “This is my baby.” Eliza’s brow furrowed. Mary’s stare deepened.

Mary asked, “Is this a joke?”

The man laughed. “You caught us! It was a prank. Look, there’s a camera!” He pointed in random directions. Mary glanced around, genuinely searching. Eliza’s eyes narrowed. The man looked her up and down, and the sweep of his eyes was violent. He said, “That’s a gorgeous bracelet. It’s just beautiful.”

Eliza clutched the jewelry to her chest and suddenly felt thrown back into her dorm room. Charlotte’s fingertips ghosted up her arm as her deep voice assured, _I think it looks better on you._

“Thanks,” Eliza said.

“I have some just like it,” he said. “I sell them real cheap. A whole collection in my car.”

“ELIZA!” Cousin Collins raced from up the beach, sand kicking in her wake. The man and woman scuffled off just as quick, hurrying away before Collins was close. “You can’t talk to guys like that!” she yelled. Every time Collins spoke, her voice was ten decibels louder than necessary.

Mary muttered, “They had a baby.”

“I know!” Collins hollered. “That’s how they’re luring people now.”

“Luring?” Eliza echoed.

“For sex traffiking,” Collins said, like it was normal. “Well, usually. Sometimes it’s just for rape. Then, like, death.” She turned on her heels, leading the girls back up the beach. “Hurry up. Mom says we can try some of her beer.”

* * *

“I’m not going out again,” Eliza swore. Around her, her sisters swiped on eye shadow and blotted their lips. There was no need to share a bathroom, but the one in their mother’s room was the largest and no one of the sisters wanted to forfeit it to any of the others.

“Please, Lizzy,” Mrs. Bennett pleaded. “For me?” Eliza crossed her arms. Why were the Bennets still there even? The funeral had ended. Summer had just begun. There were camps to attend and internships to start.

She couldn’t understand why her father wished to be buried in some decrepit small town in the first place. People were always saying it never mattered where you were from, that where you ended up was what counted. Staying in Wide Awake felt like a punishment, which made no sense because it wasn’t as if Eliza had done anything wrong.

“I don’t see why she can’t sleep in,” Mary said.

Lydia poked her in her ribs. “You just don’t know how to say sorry.” Mary turned up her pretty little nose.

“I have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Not ‘I could say the n-word?’ You don’t think that warrants a sorry?”

“It’s not like I actually said it.”

Lydia turned and said to Kat, “Mary thinks she so woke and shit but she doesn’t even know how to apologize.” At that, Mary pushed back from the mirror and stormed out the bathroom. They heard her door slam shut from down the hall.

“Oh!” Mrs. Bennet cried. “Oh!” And she, too, fled the restroom, and the girls watched as she made her way to hide in her closet. Jane glared at her sister’s reflection. Lydia put her hands up in surrender.

In all honesty, Eliza wasn’t thinking too hard about Mary’s comment from the funeral. She didn’t want to seem caught up on it even though, emotionally, she was severely caught up on it. It felt like a slap to the face. She didn’t like her sisters discussing it, either, because then it made the fact that she refused to speak of it more apparent, and she was really just trying to get all the attention off of her so she could simmer her rage over the entire affair in private. She tried to change the subject.

“I don’t understand why you’re all putting on makeup,” Eliza said. “Won’t everyone be wearing masks?”

Kat pouted. “Do we have to?”

And Jane said, “Yes,” the same time Lydia said, “No.” At that, Lydia threw her tube of lipstick down into the sink. “If I can’t dress up, I don’t want to go either.”

Kat glanced at Eliza through the mirror and raised an eyebrow. “Now look what you’ve started,” she said. Eliza didn’t bother responding, as she felt the comment didn’t deserve an acknowledgement. Lydia stomped her foot, and the soft _pat_ of her ballet flat resonated off the linoleum after she and Kat stormed away, one after the other. Jane sighed.

“You’re upset with me, too, then?”

“I’m not upset with _you_.” Jane swiped chapstick along her lips. “I’m upset in general.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“But it feels like it is.” At that, Jane shrugged. “No advice?”

“I can’t help how you feel, really.” She squeezed Eliza’s shoulder. “I’ll talk to them. Could you get Mom out the closet?”

“No,” Eliza said, “I think she’s straight.” Jane laughed but only to be polite, then left the bathroom as well.

Eliza made her way to the closet at the other end of the room and pulled open the doors. Her mother sat at the back wall, her legs folded beneath her, her small hands running along the carpet.

“Where’s Lydia?” she asked.

Eliza’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

Mrs. Bennet said, “You send Lydia, usually.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Eliza said, honest, and her mother snorted. “OK.”

“I’m sorry you don’t like your sisters,” Mrs. Bennet said. “I’m sorry you don’t like me.”

“Mom! That’s not true.” Eliza stepped into the closet and sat across from her mother. “I like all of you very much.” Mrs. Bennet rolled her eyes. “What would make you think I didn’t?”

“What could make _you_ think you _do_?”

“You’re my family,” she said, though it was true she wasn’t entirely sure of all that the word meant.

Thus far, family had only been something interesting to mention as an icebreaker when there was a new professor at school or they were playing getting-to-know-you games at summer camp

_I’m Eliza Bennet. I’m the second oldest of five girls._

But now, looking at her frowning mother, she thought, _We’re five girls who don’t know one another very well. Five girls schooled in different sections of the country so that Lydia can perfect her music, Kat can study film, and Mary can practice her writing. Different girls with different interests and different accents and different DNA, too, because Mom was too weak after Jane, and Dad always knew one wasn’t enough._

She thought then, _I’m going to be buried with total strangers._

When your loved one dies, where will you put all their things? In a rental home in Wide Awake and then absolutely everywhere, scattered across the country like their ashes could be. And when they’re gone, too, if no one has loved them enough to place them with _their_ family in _their_ plots, ship the carcasses back to Wide Awake, where they can sleep until a hurricane shakes up their bones.

Eliza said, “I don’t like this place.”

Mrs. Bennet said, “I can tell.” It wasn’t what Eliza hoped she might say. She asked, “Do you like anything?”

“I miss Daddy,” Eliza said, which was not an answer to the question but the only thing that could fit in her mouth. Her voice was rough and scratchy, and she felt like her whole body was ready to cry. Her mother placed a palm on her cheek but not for comfort. The hand might as well have been attached to a stranger brushing into her on a busy street. Eliza had to stop herself from pulling away. She flinched, and her mother noticed. Mrs. Bennet’s eyes were cold.

“I know how you feel for me. I’ll tell you how I feel for you. You are not half as beautiful as Jane, not half as charming as Lydia. You’re not well-read like Mary, nor are you as agreeable as Kitty. You,” she said, “are like your father.”

“Oh,” Eliza said, realizing. “You’re drunk.” Her mother’s breath was sweet and her eyes crossed and uncrossed themselves.

“I’m…” Mrs. Bennet didn’t finish.

“OK,” Eliza said. “I’ll go.”

* * *

The country club was having an event for the class of 2020 to make them feel better about losing their graduation and their prom and every other enjoyable aspect of finally finishing high school. Life truly wasn’t fair, Eliza thought, because if anyone deserved to have a Cinderella moment, it was Jane.

Jane was always gentle and vulnerable and open, and Eliza was very, very jealous of that. When other people spoke of gentleness, they made it seem soft, but Jane showed her that was not true. Jane was sure and oftentimes right, and she was so unafraid of anything that she opened her arms to all the world to let herself be broken again and again. She went with whatever her mind could come up with, whatever her body could do.

Which was probably why she was dancing like a maniac.

“She looks like she just regained control of her legs.” Lydia snickered, raised a flute, and drank.

Eliza cautioned, “That better be sparkling juice.”

Lydia said, “You better be minding your business.” And then she pouted and turned away with Kitty following after her. At Eliza’s other side, Mary paused while turning a page in her novel.

“Are you still not talking to me?” she asked.

“You brought a book to a party,” Eliza said and left it at that. Jane rushed up to their seats from the dance floor.

“Mary, stop reading!” She laughed. “Eliza, come dance with me!”

“No, thank you.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I don’t think dancing is fun,” Eliza said. “And I can’t dance with you because all of those boys are watching you.” Jane blushed but she didn’t deny it.

“They’d watch you, too, if you got up.”

“I don’t want them to watch me.” She gave a thin smile. “I’m not sure anyone here’s my type.”

Jane frowned. “Don’t be mean.”

“It’s probably more accurate to say _I’m_ not _their_ type,” Eliza said. “I’m not being mean. But this is South Carolina and I’m pretty sure every guy in here is a redneck racist.” Thus far, all the sisters had been hit on at least once except for Lydia and Eliza, and Eliza was sure it was because they were the darkest. At Waffle House, a waiter tried to slip Kitty her number while ringing up the bill, and both Jane and Mary were followed through several aisles of the Wal-Mart when they went to restock groceries. Eliza wasn’t foolish, nor was she insecure, but it did seem telling that the only people on this horrid trip down south who vocally expressed interest in her were sex traffikers.

“Elizabeth,” Jane admonished. It was like she could see into her soul. She said, “You’re _pretty._ ” Eliza shrugged. Jane cast a quick look over her shoulder and made a nondescript nod toward the dance floor. “What about him?” Eliza searched the room.

“Everyone looks dull.”

“No, no, he’s not dancing. Not dancing—the waiter. Black tie, light hair.” At that, even Mary abandoned her book. She and Eliza looked through the kitchen window, where various workers plated food and mixed drinks. A few more circled the room, tidying up here and there. Jane seemed to be indicating a boy whose name tag read CHARLIE. He had a wide, open smile and only seemed to be cleaning whatever spot was nearest to his dark-haired friend, who wore no name tag at all. The boys moved as a unit, sanitizing door handles and picking up empty plates.

“He…” Eliza couldn’t think of an insult in a fashionable time. “He looks very nice, actually.”

“I asked him to dance but he said he’s not allowed to interact with guests while he’s on the clock.”

“That’s problematic,” Mary said. Jane frowned.

“Why? Do you think he’s lying?”

Mary shrugged. “I don’t know, but it’s kind of rude to ask someone who’s technically working for you to engage in a romantic activity. It’s not like he can say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ without repercussions.” Jane’s face grew bright, bright red. Eliza took one of her hands.

“Don’t listen to her. He probably just can’t let his boss see him flirting.”

“I should go over and apologize,” Jane said. She nodded, frantic. “I’ll go say sorry.” Eliza tugged her closer.

“Don’t do that. You’ll seem weird.” Jane groaned. “Don’t be desperate. He'sa _waiter_.” Mary elbowed her in her rib, which Eliza knew she would do.

“So then I should just ignore him?” Jane asked.

“I don’t know if ‘ignoring’ is the right term.” Mary pulled down her mask to lick her finger and turn a pulp page in her novel. “I’d just say to leave him alone.”

Eliza glared. “You know, removing your mask to _lick_ your _finger_ , which you’ll use to touch things other people will need to touch, is irresponsible as well.” Mary grumbled and tugged back up her mask.

* * *

When the night was over, the girls had to wait outside for their ride. Lydia complained, asking what could be taking their mother so long, and, after remembering the slur of her words earlier in the evening, Eliza decided to keep her attempts at answering to herself.

“We could call Auntie Catherine,” she suggested. All her sisters groaned, even Jane.

“With Auntie comes Cousin Collins,” Lydia said.

Kat giggled. “I’d rather walk.”

“There’s no Uber,” Mary said. Lydia exclaimed.

“Oh! I didn’t even think of that.” She pulled out her phone.

Mary grunted. “No, I mean there’s no Uber as in I already looked. The app just keeps telling me there are no drivers in the area.”

Kat said, “I’ve literally never seen the app say that in my life.” Mary showed the younger sisters her phone. While they awed over it, the club doors opened and a few teens their age walked out, waiter uniforms and dress shoes hanging from their shoulders and swinging in their hands.

One was Charlie.

Jane quickly averted her eyes.

Charlie said, “Hey!” Jane looked up. Blushed.

“Hi,” she said back. She smiled. Eliza watched her eyes glow under the parking lot lamps and tried to still the stirring in her stomach. Something was happening or about to happen and Eliza only wanted the night to end.

But then Mary said, “Oooooooo!” And then, “I love your outfit.” Eliza looked away. The other waiters were approaching the sisters as well. Mary spoke to the raven-haired boy who wouldn’t leave Charlie’s side. He was wearing a crop top. Up close, Eliza saw the boy was outrageously tall and there were holes in his shoes. She couldn’t help the cackle that rose out of her at the sight of him. Mary elbowed her in her arm.

The guy said, doubtful, “Thanks.” He glanced over at her, weary. Eliza could not. Stop. Laughing. She turned her head to hide behind Kat, who pretended to stroke and fix her hair.

“He’s okay,” Kat whispered. Eliza gave her a look like, _really?_ She thought, _The bar is in hell._

She regained herself enough to give the boy another look, but it nearly sent her into a giggle fit again. He was mostly shadow in the dark, but she could make out the vague shape of him: sort of chubby, a long nose, thick thighs. He looked like one of those memes where you held up a Dorito chip and saw it matched his outline. And his clothes were mix-matched: red and blue and a puke-yellowish-green.

“I’m Katherine,” Kat said, holding out a hand.

Eliza bristled. “You’re too young for him.”

“Thanks, _Mom_ , I didn’t ask.”

“You’re new here?” A female waiter asked, but she said it like a declaration and not a question.

“Not for long,” Eliza said. “We’re only in town for about another week.”

“Oh, good,” she said. “Wouldn’t want you to have to deal with anymore racist rednecks.” Eliza’s insides roared to life, a large fire burning up her stomach and into her cheeks. The tips of her ears felt ready to burn and fall off. _Ohmygod_ , she thought. _Ohmygod, no._

Beside them, Eliza overheard Charlie ask, “Do y’all need a ride?”

“No,” Eliza said, but her sisters said, “Yes,” and “Thank you!” and “Which one’s your car?”

* * *

Mrs. Bennet and Auntie Catherine had come to some sort of agreement. It required the entire family to be in attendance, and when they gathered in Auntie’s dining room, Eliza remembered the last time they were all together, which was when her dead father lay in a casket at the front of the room. The funeral home had done their best, but his face still sagged in odd places. Eliza was filled with the overwhelming urge to kiss him. It was so strong she had to hold herself down into her seat, and she gripped the edge of the pew to keep from running to him.

“...trying to cancel cheerleading practice,” Collins was saying. Her brown ponytail swished behind her as she tossed it over her shoulder. She turned to Eliza. “It’s tomorrow. Do you wanna go?”

“No,” Eliza said. Collins stuttered, her blue eyes widening. She was chewing what must’ve been the hardest gum on the planet, and the freckles on her cheeks bounced all across her face.

“Just ‘no?’” Eliza didn’t respond because she’d already answered and she didn’t see a point in prolonging the conversation. “Eliza, you really don’t have to be so rude all the time. Like, I don’t know how they do stuff where you go to school, but down here we believe in _southern hospitality_.” She said the last part in a dramatic southern accent. Eliza didn’t laugh because she didn’t think it was funny. “Fine. I’ll just ask Jane, then.”

“You do that,” Eliza said, but Collins must’ve thought she was being sarcastic because she stormed away afterwards.

“Kat found your guy,” Lydia said.

“Who?” Eliza asked.

“Not you. Jane. Jane, Kat found your guy.” Lydia swiped her sister’s phone and showed it to the group. Jane politely leaned away from Collins to see. Charlie, his dark-haired friend, and a girl who must’ve been Charlie’s sister were on a football field. _#gobulldogs #fridaynightlights #missing2019._ Eliza reached forward and Lydia yanked away the phone. “It’s not for you!” she hollered. Still, Eliza tapped and saw the dark-haired boy’s handle. @willied. She typed it into her own phone.

Something about him looked different in the light. He almost looked pretty. He still had an awful taste in style. All his clothes were either too big or too small. There was one photo a long while back of him in a salon with bleached-white hair. Something in Eliza’s chest went _shwooomm!_

But was he hot or was he just photogenic? She tried to remember all the details of his shadowy figure from the night of the graduation party. His long nose and wide frame and how he seemed to stretch forever into the sky. She swiped. In one photo he wore glasses. In another photo, he held Charlie’s face with both hands and was planting a puckered kiss on his cheek. _Mi hermano de otre mama! Te quiero! Feliz cumpleanos!_ His side profile showed the acne marks on his cheek and the bump of his nose and it was while looking for his next flaw that she first caught a glimpse of his perfection.

Eliza’d never had a crush before. She hadn’t thought of boys at all after George, and she was sure that experience was enough to put her off for good. Girls made her nervous, so she never tried there either. She had nothing to compare this to but it already felt wrong. A crush was supposed to do what the word implied. She didn’t feel crushed at all; she felt elated. She felt like she knew something. She knew something. She knew him. She knew him quite well. Good God. Good God.

She started crying. Like, actual tears. “What’s wrong with you?” Lydia asked but she didn’t know. She was looking at that picture and wiping at her eyes before anyone noticed and _why was she crying?_ Her heart was racing and her hands were shaking and she was her body; her body wasn’t her. She locked her phone.

“Mom, why are we here?” Eliza asked. She wiped the last of the wetness from beneath her eyes. Mrs. Bennet was setting the dinner table with her sister-in-law. She set down a large bowl of green beans and put her hands on her hips.

“Well,” she started, and Eliza could tell it would be bad news. “I know the plan, originally, was to stay here for a few more days, but I think I just want to see more of where your father came from.”

“Why?” Eliza asked. Jane pinched her side, but she didn’t know how asking was rude. She’d seen where her father had come from. She’d seen more than enough. She’d seen where she’d lay after life and large expanses of grass and the gum under a small Waffle House booth. _Don’t be difficult_ , she thought to her mother. _Let Kat go back to her psychos. Let me spend the summer making jewelry with Charlotte. Let us all go. Let us go. Let go right now or else I’ll be stuck with these people forever._

The wave of shame that rolled over her made her nauseous. She didn’t mean to think that.

Her mother put it up to a vote.

Lydia thought things were finally getting interesting there.

Kat wanted to return to New York.

Mary didn’t want anything, but then that also meant she didn’t want to stay, now didn’t it? No, that meant she was neutral.

The girls realized now that, without their father to set things straight, they would always be at a tie.

“Can I vote?” Collins asked. Eliza wanted to smack her upside the head. “I think you should stay,” she said.

And it was decided.

Later, as dinner wound down, Mrs. Bennet pulled Eliza close to her chest. “I don’t remember all that I said,” she murmured, “But I know it was horrible and that I didn’t mean it.”

“You just said that I’m like Dad,” Eliza assured her. Mrs. Bennet laughed.

“You _are_ like your father.” _And I cannot stand to look at you_ , Elizabeth finished in her head. _You_ are _like your father_ , she’d said, like it was an insult.

“What’s your favorite thing about me?” Eliza asked. Mrs. Bennet kissed all over her face.

“I. Love. All. Of. You.” She peppered each word with another kiss.

“But if you had to pick one,” Eliza insisted.

“Don’t be immature,” her mother admonished. “Oh! You’re mature. I love that, too.”

“If we stay here,” Eliza asked, “what will we do with all of Dad’s things up in New York?”

Her mother looked incredulous. “We’ll just keep it up there,” she said, like it was obvious. “We’ll deal with it when we deal with it.”

**Author's Note:**

> keep up with me on Tumblr @crownsley


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